The Poetry and Meaning of Fairy Tales

Schmidt Number: S-1897

On-line since: 15th January, 2006

The
Interpretation of Fairy Tales

Berlin, December 26, 1908

The subject of today's
lecture is a kind of principle or rule for the explanation of fairy
tales and legends. In a wider sense this principle can be extended to
the world of myths, and we will indicate in a few words how this can
be done. Naturally it is impossible in one hour to specify exactly
how one should satisfy a child today with the fairy story itself and
then later, when the child is older, with the explanation of it. I
would now rather try to clarify what should exist in the soul of the
one who wishes to explain such stories, and what that person ought to
know.

The
first thing we must determine when relating fairy tales, legends or
myths is that we should certainly know more than we are able to say,
indeed, a great deal more; and secondly, we should be willing to draw
the sources of our explanation from anthroposophical wisdom; that is,
we must not introduce into the fairy tales just anything that may
occur to us but must be willing to recognize anthroposophical wisdom
as such, and then try to permeate the fairy tales with it. Not
everyone will succeed at once. But even if at first we cannot
unriddle it all, we should gradually be able to find the right
meaning. What is built on a good foundation will work out well, but
where it is not, it follows that all manner of things can be
construed into it. We speak both for those who are narrating and also
for those to be instructed. Examples of the clearest possible kind
will be given, to let us picture what it is all about. The first
fairy tale we have to discuss can be told in the following manner:

Once
upon a time it happened — where did it happen? where indeed did
it not happen? — there was a tailor's apprentice. He had only
one penny left in his pocket, and with this penny in his pocket he
felt driven to wander forth. He soon became hungry, but with his
penny he could only afford to buy some milk soup. When the soup was
placed before him, a swarm of flies flew into it and when he had
finished his meal the plate was covered with buzzing flies. He struck
the plate once or twice with his hand, counting how many he had
killed, and found it amounted to a hundred. So he got a slate from
the innkeeper and wrote on it: “He killed a hundred at one
blow!” And having hung the slate on his back he went his way.
As he passed a king's palace, the king was looking out and seeing
someone passing who had something written on his back, he sent his
servant down to see what the writing was. The servant saw: “He
killed a hundred at one blow!” — and told the king. “Ho!”
said the king to himself, “That is someone I can make use of!”
and he sent down and had him brought in. “I can make use of
you,” said the king to the tailor. “Will you enter my
service?” “Yes,” said the other, “I will
willingly enter your service if you will give me a proper reward, but
what that is I shall tell you later.” “Very well,”
said the king, “I shall reward you handsomely if you keep to
what you have promised. You shall eat and drink well, as long as you
like. After that, you must do me a service, equal to your strength.
Every year a number of bears come to my country and do fearful
damage. They are so strong that no one can kill them. You will of
course be able to kill them, if you live up to the statement on your
slate.” Then the apprentice said: “Certainly I will do
this, but till the bears come I must ask for as much to eat and drink
as I want.” For the apprentice said to himself: “If I
cannot slay the bears, and they kill me, I shall at least have eaten
and drunk well.” And so it went for a while. When the time came
and the bears were due to appear, he arranged the kitchen, set up a
little table and left the door wide open; on the table he placed all
manner of things that bears like to eat and drink — honey and
suchlike; then he hid himself. The bears came along, ate and drank
till they were gorged and then had to lie down. He cut off the head
of each bear and in this way killed them all. When the king saw this,
he asked: “Now how did you do it?” And the apprentice
said: “I simply killed the bears and then cut off their heads.”
The king took this on trust and said: “If you have done that,
you can render me an even greater service. Every year great strong
giants come to our country. No one can kill them or drive them away;
perhaps you can.” The tailor replied: “Yes, I will do it,
if afterwards you will give me your daughter as my wife.” Now
it was very important to the king to have the giants driven away, and
so he promised, and again for a time the tailor lived a good life.

When
the time came for the giants to appear, he took all manner of things
that giants like to eat and drink, and went to meet them. On the way
he added to the rest a piece of cheese and a lark, and then with all
his many things and the piece of cheese and the lark he met the
giants. The giants said: “We have come again to wrestle with
the strongest; no one has overcome us!” Then said the tailor's
apprentice: “I will wrestle with you!” “It will go
badly with you!” said one of the giants. The tailor said: “Show
me your strength and what you can do!” The giant took a stone
and pulverized it between his fingers. He then took a bow and arrow
and shot the arrow so high into the air that it did not come down for
a long time. “If you want to see my strength, if you want to
wrestle with me, you must be able to do something better than that,”
said the giant. The tailor took a small stone, and covered it
secretly with a little cheese, so that when he pressed it between his
fingers the cheese spurted out milk. Then he said to the giants: “I
can press liquid out of a stone and that you cannot do!” It
made a great impression on the giants that he could do something
different from them. Then he also took a bow and arrow, but when he
shot, unobserved by them he let loose the lark, which flew up and did
not return. So he said to the giants; “Your arrow came down
again, but I shot so high that mine never returned to earth!”
The giants were astonished to find anyone stronger than themselves
and said to him: “Will you be our comrade?” He agreed.
Certainly he was small, but for all that he would be a good addition,
so they took him into their company and he stayed a while with them.
But it was galling to them that there should be anyone stronger than
themselves, and once when he lay awake in bed he overheard them
arranging to kill him. Therefore he made preparations. He got a
big meal ready with the things that he had brought with him. The
giants ate and drank all they could until they were gorged. Still
they were determined to kill him. So he took a pig's bladder and
filled it with blood, fastened it on his head and went to bed. The
giant who had been chosen to kill him came and stabbed at his head,
and when the blood ran out they were delighted, for now, they
thought, they were rid of him, and they lay down and slept. But he
got out of bed and killed one giant after another as they slept. Then
he went to the king and related how he had slain one giant after the
other.

The
king kept his word and gave him his daughter for a wife, and the
tailor was married to the king's daughter. The king marveled greatly
at his son-in-law's strength, but neither the king nor his daughter
knew who this man really was, whether a tailor or a king's son; they
did not know it then, and if they have not found it out since, they
do not know it even today.

This
is one of the fairy tales that we want to take as an example. But
before we go into it, let us put another beside it, for if you
collect fairy tales, from whatever period or people, if they are
genuine fairy tales you will find that certain basic ideas run
through them all. I must call your attention to the fact that the
giants were overcome by cunning. Now make a plunge back through the
centuries and recall Odysseus and the giant Polyphemus in the
Odyssey. Let us put the following fairy tale side by side with
the first one:

Once
upon a time it happened — where then was it? where indeed was
it not? — there was a king who was so beloved of his people
that he was always hearing them wish that he would take a wife as
good and noble as himself. It was difficult for him to find anyone
suitable for him and for his people. Now he had an old friend, a poor
forester, who lived simply and contentedly in the forest and who was
very wise. He might very easily have been rich, for the king would
willingly have given him everything, but the forester wished to
remain poor and retain his wisdom. So the king now went to his friend
the forester and asked his advice. The latter gave him a branch of
rosemary, saying: “Take care of this; the maiden before whom it
bends is the maiden you ought to marry.” So the very next day
the king had a number of damsels brought before him. He had pearls
spread out before them, and every girl's name was written on the
table in pearls; then he made it known that the maiden before whom
the branch bent should be his bride; the others would have only the
pearls. So he went around with the branch of rosemary, but it did not
move; it bent before no one. The girls were given their pearls and
went away. The second day the same thing was arranged, and again the
same thing happened, and likewise on the third day. The next night,
while the king slept, he heard something tapping on the window. It
proved to be a little golden bird; it said to him: “You do not
know it, but twice you have done me a great service; I will also do
you a service. As soon as day breaks, get up, take your branch of
rosemary and follow me. I will lead you to a place where you will
find a horse; it has a silver arrow piercing its body; you must pull
it out, and the horse will lead you to where you will find your
bride.”

The
next morning the king went out and followed the little golden bird
until they came to a horse that was very weak and ill and that said:
“A witch has shot an arrow into my body!” The king pulled
out the arrow and at that moment the weak animal was changed into a
wonderfully swift horse. The king mounted it, the golden bird flew on
in front, and the rosemary branch waved ahead of the king on his
magic horse. At last they reached a castle made of glass. Long before
they reached it, they heard a buzzing and a buzzing and a buzzing,
and when the king entered with the branch of rosemary and the little
golden bird, he saw another king standing there, fashioned entirely
of glass, and in the stomach of the glass king was an enormous
bluebottle fly; it was this bluebottle fly that made the buzzing, and
it was trying to work its way out. The king asked the glass king what
it all meant. “Well,” said the latter, “just look
towards the sofa: there sits my queen in a pink silk gown, and the
secret of it all you will soon discover. The web that has been spun
around the queen has just been torn away by a thornbird and will soon
be quite torn off her. Then there will come a wicked spider to spin a
new web around the queen, and while I am bewitched here in a glass
body, my wife will be enmeshed by the spider's web. We have already
been imprisoned like this for several hundred years and must
remain here until we are released.” Presently the wicked spider
appeared and spun her web around the queen, but while the spider
was at work the magic horse stepped up and wanted to kill the spider.
He was just about to put his hoof on her, when the buzzing bluebottle
fly, which had worked its way out, came to the help of the spider,
but the magic horse killed them both. Then instantly the glass king
was turned into a quite human king. The thornbird was changed into a
charming waiting-maid, the queen was freed from the cobweb, and the
glass king related how it had all come about:

As
soon as he became king he had had to suffer from the persecutions of
a wicked witch who lived in a forest on the edge of his domain. The
witch wanted him to marry her daughter, but as he had already chosen
a wife from a neighboring fairy castle, the witch swore to be
revenged on him; she changed him into a glass king and her daughter
into a bluebottle fly, who gnawed at his stomach. The queen was
tormented by the witch, who changed herself into a wicked spider and
spun a cobweb around the queen; the maid was changed into a
thornbird, and the king's horse was shot by the witch, whose arrow
remained in its body. Now everything had been set right through the
horse being freed and able to free the others.

Then
the king asked the former glass king if he knew where he could find a
suitable wife. The latter showed him the way to the neighboring fairy
castle. The little golden bird flew on in front and when they came to
the castle they found a lily. The branch of rosemary led them
straight to it and bent before the lily, and at the same moment the
lily was changed into a wonderfully beautiful maiden who had also
been bewitched, for the queen of the neighboring castle was her
sister. Now she was released, because of what had just taken place.
The king took her back to his home, the wedding was celebrated, and
they lived in great happiness, they themselves and all their people.
They lived for a long, long time. No one knows how long, but if they
have not died, they must still be alive today.

The
first thing we must do in order to understand the meaning of genuine
fairy tales and myths is to stop regarding them as fantasy derived
from folk imagination; they are never that. The starting point of all
true tales lies in time immemorial, in the time when those who
had not yet attained intellectual powers possessed a more or less
remarkable clairvoyance, the remains of the primeval clairvoyance.
People who had preserved this lived in a condition between sleeping
and waking where they actually experienced the spiritual world in
many different forms. This was not like one of our dreams today,
which have for most people (but not for everyone) a somewhat chaotic
nature. In those ancient times, people with the old clairvoyance had
such regular experiences that everyone's were the same or very
similar.

What
then really happened to human beings in this intermediate state
between waking and sleeping? When people are in their physical
bodies, they perceive the world around them as far as they can with
their physical organs of perception but behind that world is the
spiritual world. In this intermediate state it was as though a veil
were lifted, the veil of the physical world, and the spiritual world
became visible. Everything in the spiritual world was seen in some
particular relationship to what lived inwardly in the human being. It
is much the same in the physical world; we cannot see colors with the
ear nor hear tones with the eye. The outer accords with the inner. In
such an intermediate state, the external senses were silent, while
the inner soul became active. Just as the eye and the ear connect
themselves with the surrounding world, the different parts of the
human astral body make their own connection, in this intermediate
state of consciousness, with their surrounding world. When the
outer senses are silenced the soul comes to life.

We
have, to begin with, three members of the soul: sentient soul,
intellectual soul, and consciousness soul. As the eye and the ear
each have a different relationship to the surrounding world, so has
each of these three members of the human soul its quite distinct
relationship to its surrounding world. We become aware, in this
intermediate state, of one or another part of our soul, which is
directed to its surroundings. If the sentient soul especially is
directed to its spiritual surroundings, we will see all those beings
that are intimately connected with the ordinary forces of nature.
People do not themselves see the active forces of nature, but they do
see what lives in that activity: wind, weather and other natural
phenomena. The beings that express themselves within it are perceived
through the sentient soul. When that soul is especially active, it is
exactly as if we were still living at the time when neither the
intellectual soul nor the consciousness soul had yet been developed;
we are transported back and see our surroundings as we did in ancient
times, just as when we did not know how to use our intellectual and
consciousness souls.

In
those ancient times we were in very close touch with all the forces
of nature and still bound up with them. We consisted, as
everyone on earth did at that time, of physical body, etheric body,
astral body and sentient soul alone. We ourselves were able then
to do what now those beings around us that are active within the
lower nature forces can do; they appear to us as the expression of
what we once were, when in the howling windstorm men could tear up
trees, when they could control the weather, the mist and the rain.
The beings around us appear to us just as we ourselves once were when
we still had the strength of giants, before we had withdrawn so
completely from the forces of nature. The figures that appear
around us are the facsimiles of our own former appearance, people
with gigantic strength, “giants.” In such an
intermediate state of consciousness, we see giants as real
figures, representing a quite definite kind of being, men possessed
of gigantic strength. The giants are also stupid, because they belong
to a time when people could not yet use an intellectual soul —
they are strong and stupid.

Now
what can the intellectual soul see in such an intermediate
state? It can see that things were fashioned in accordance with a
certain wisdom. Through strength, through the giant in man,
everything was formed and brought about; through
what is in our intellectual soul when we are alive to it, we see
beings around us who bring wisdom into everything, who regulate
everything wisely. While the giants are generally seen in male form,
we see the images of the intellectual soul as constructive female
beings who bring wisdom into the activity of the world. These are the
“wise women” of the tales, working behind everything that
is formed and themselves forming everything. In these figures we see
ourselves over and over again as we once were when we had acquired an
intellectual soul but not yet a consciousness soul. Because we
see ourselves intimately connected with such wise rulers at the back
of things, we often feel when we enter an intermediate state of
consciousness: “The wise female beings I see there are really
related to me.” Therefore the idea of “sisters”
often arises when these female beings appear.

Now
there is something else our soul experiences when in this state of
consciousness and this can be understood only very inwardly. In such
a condition of soul we have withdrawn from ordinary physical
perception, so that we say to ourselves, “Yes, what I see now
in my soul is certainly contained in what I see during the day, in
what is clear then to my intellectual soul — but when I see it
by day, it is exactly reversed.” When in the intermediate state
of consciousness we remember the impressions of the day, they appear
to be the reverse of what we remember during the day of the
perceptions we had during the intermediate state, of the various
fleeting forms of our astral organization. When we recall the
impressions of the day, it seems as though the subtle etheric forms
behind ordinary reality were changed into stiff figures. Things
during the day appear to us as though they were bewitched, with their
real nature held prisoner within them. Wherever a plant or being
appears bewitched, it has happened like this: we see the substance of
a wise being behind the physical appearance and we remember, “Yes,
by day that is only a plant; it is separated from my intellectual
soul so that I cannot really reach it during the day.” When we
feel this estrangement between the objects by day and what is behind
them, for example the perception of the lily in the daytime and the
form behind it related to our own intellectual soul, we will perceive
that our intellectual soul has a strong kind of longing to unite with
what is behind the object or the lily; it would be a “marriage,”
a union of the night-form with the day-form.

The
consciousness soul originated in human beings at a time when we had
already distanced ourselves from the forces of nature and no longer
could look into the mysteries of existence. What the
consciousness soul is able to do is far removed from those strong
forces we have described. Shrewdness is its essential quality, not
strength nor any rough force. By means of the consciousness soul we
can see all those spiritual beings that have remained behind at the
stage where the human being had only the sheath of the ego. We see
them living at that point, not able to do much with their minute
strength, and as we see their forms in images according to their
inner nature, they appear to us as dwarfs. In intermediate periods
when we free ourselves from sense perception, we find the whole realm
that lies behind sense perception peopled with such forms. In our
more or less higher moments, when we feel our connection to the
spiritual world, the outer events in life appear to be what they
genuinely are: an imprint or reproduction of this whole relationship
to the spiritual world.

If
a person is especially shrewd in life and not only dry and prosaic
but able to conceive the relationship of life to spiritual reality,
particularly in such states in which human beings can still know
something of spiritual reality, the following may happen. If he is a
somewhat thoughtful person, he will observe that certain people with
shrewdness are able in all sorts of clever ways to overcome the crude
forces that otherwise dominate people's lives. He will then tell
himself: “What actually happens in life is that rough strength
is overcome by cleverness; for this we can thank the powers behind
us, to whom we are related, for they have allowed a force to become
conscious in us that overcomes rough strength with cleverness, the
rough strength that we ourselves possessed when we were at the stage
of the giants.”

The
incidents of our inner life appear to us as mirror-images of events
in the outer world that have passed away but can still be perceived
in the spiritual world. In the spiritual world are reflected the
struggles of those beings who, though weaker in bodily strength, are
in consequence stronger in spiritual strength. Whenever the
overcoming of the rough forces or the giants appears in fairy tales
it is founded on the perception taking place in such an intermediate
state of consciousness. Man wishes to gain a clear insight about
himself; he has lost sight of the spiritual world, but he says to
himself: “I can gain a clear insight when I am in such an
intermediate state. Then I shall be so wise that intelligence and
shrewdness will gain the victory over the rough forces!”

Powers
appear and act and enlighten man as to what happens in the
spiritual world. He then recounts what has happened in the
spiritual world, and must recount it in such a way that he says:
“What I have seen and related happened once upon a time, and is
still happening behind the world of sense in the spiritual world,
where there are different conditions of life.” It may be that
every time he has seen it under such conditions, the event is already
past, together with the conditions which made such an action
possible. Yet it may still be there. It depends on whether someone
entering an intermediate state observes that event. It is neither
here nor there but everywhere where there is anyone who can observe
it. Therefore, every genuine fairy tale begins:

“Once
upon a time it happened — where then was it? Where indeed was
it not?” That is the correct beginning of a fairy tale, and
every fairy tale must end with, “I once saw this, and if what
happened in the spiritual world did not perish, if it is not dead, it
must still be alive today.” That is just the way every fairy
tale should be related. If you always begin and end this way, you
will create the right sort of sensitivity to what you are telling.

Suppose
— like the king in the second tale — someone has to find
a wife. He looks for a being in the human world who is as nearly as
possible a picture of what he can find in the spiritual world as his
archetype, and this can be found through the wise guidance of the
powers that the intellectual soul can recognize. But in the
outer world it cannot be found; therefore we have to subordinate the
outer to the more inward element in ourselves. On the physical plane
we are subject to error. Therefore we must allow deeply inward powers
to rule, when we make such a search as the king is doing. Even today
we are able to do this by putting ourselves in that intermediate
state of consciousness, in order to make a connection with the powers
ruling there. The persons who possess such powers, however, live in
retirement where they are not distracted by the immense happenings of
the world. And so the king has to go to his friend, the hermit,
living alone and in poverty, who knows the secrets of the forces
guiding human beings to the spiritual world. He is able to give the
king the branch of rosemary.

The
king cannot find, through any outward contrivance, what can be
determined only by his archetypes in the spiritual world. Therefore
he dreams first of all that a little golden bird comes to him and
then he remains in a sort of waking-dream state. In this condition,
through the transparent touch one has as a sense in the spiritual
world, he experiences everything I have shown. Gradually he comes to
find out, through the powers opposing human purity and nobility,
something that has been preserved even into our own time: the
possibility of being blessed with pure joy. None of the powers bound
to the physical world today can bring him to this, only the power
that appears to him when the intellectual soul or his general inner
soul strength is directed towards the spiritual world. And this power
comes to him in the image of the “magic horse.” In the
physical world the horse is only the shadow picture of what lies
behind it in the spiritual world. The harmful powers of soul embodied
in the physical world have shot the arrow into the horse's body. The
moment that these forces are plucked out and the horse is freed from
them, the powers are aroused that enable the king to understand and
assess all these relationships, so that by looking not only on
outer appearance, he is able to find what is right for him. With
ordinary intelligence, he might wander far into the world and find
people here, there, and everywhere, but he would pass by the wife he
is looking for; he would not understand at all what conditions are
involved or what hindrances there are. The earlier conditions
would be preserved.

The
conditions he is looking for are there, but they are distorted by the
outer physical world, where indeed most things do appear altered. We
certainly do not have — in the physical world — the
forces in their true reality. However, the transformed glass king
finally appears in his true form and is the very personality who can
point out where the other should look for a wife. Through the
opposing forces of the outer world the glass king has been
transformed; these forces assert themselves when the human being
is completely entangled in the concerns of the external world. At
first the glass king is completely enmeshed in outer circumstances
and this has made him different inwardly from what he actually could
be. We often have things like wrong-doing in our karma that are like
an evil bluebottle fly. The truth lying at the bottom of all this is
revealed in such pictures. We must be able to imagine the situation:
what lies behind physical phenomena can be found in the forces
awakened in the king. As his soul forces awaken and when he directs
them well, he finds what the outer physical forces had hidden from
him, his “bride.”

When
some external happening like searching for a bride is pictured in
such tales, it usually takes place not in an ordinary way but in
circumstances where someone comes into contact with a sort of
soul-shepherd, who will awaken the deeper forces within him, as the
hermit did for the king. He is led thereby to the forces that make
everything in the physical world appear unreal for a time; he needs
this if it is going to be possible for him to discern the truth. And
so we see that while outer conditions seem to be the source, other
states of consciousness are present, calling forth genuine vision.

Every
fairy tale can be explained in this way, but the explanation
should come forth out of the spiritual reality that lies in back of
the whole world of fairy tales. Everything that occurs in a tale,
including all the small details, can gradually be found and
interpreted. For example, the mysterious connection between the
active forces of perception and the hidden forces of ordinary life
can become visible when we begin to look at it more inwardly. This is
beautifully symbolized in the touch of the little golden bird on the
lily. Delicate, significant spiritual forces are indeed latent in the
lily, but they only appear when they have been aroused by the golden
bird.

The
established belief that everything around us is bewitched
spiritual truth and that we attain the truth when we break the spell,
is the basis of the realm of the fairy tale. We must be quite clear
that a fairy tale is primarily the account of an astral event. But by
its constant repetition minor details are altered — people have
an extraordinary talent for changing things! We carefully collect the
tales as they are told again and again by simple people, and indeed
these are remnants of an ancient picture seen in the astral world,
but many of the details may well have been altered. And then the
mistake is made to explain these alterations in a clever way. To
explain fairy tales correctly, we must always go back to their
original form and recognize it as such. Everything has to correspond
to those astral experiences.

The
question may arise whether the human being has the same form today as
in those earlier times that are still contained in the spiritual
experiences we have in the intermediate state of consciousness. The
answer is no, we do not. We have passed through very different forms
before developing into what we are today. However, what we have
overcome and cast forth appears in a quite distinct, external form.
In order to estrange ourselves from our giant power, we had to cast
forth our giant shapes and overcome them, refining our forces and
raising them to the intellectual soul and the consciousness soul.
There are indeed beings who have remained at the stage of the rough
forces. Wherever something evil appears and has to be overcome,
something that has remained stationary on the astral plane, it always
appears as a “dragon” or something similar; this is none
other than the grotesque form, transformed in the spiritual
world, of what human beings had to change and cast forth from
themselves. We must be aware that this corresponds to an absolutely
certain fact.

In
conclusion, I should like to relate another fairy tale for you to
ponder over for yourselves. It will contain the various motifs that
come into play when the human being makes a connection with the
astral world. If you apply what I have been describing to this
somewhat complicated tale, you will be able to unravel the threads
almost entirely for yourselves. This particular fairy tale is a kind
of synthesis, bringing together the most varied, interweaving forces:

Once
upon a time it happened — where then was it? Where indeed was
it not? There was an old king, who had three sons and three
daughters. When he was about to die, he said to his three sons, “Give
my three daughters to those who first ask for them in marriage, that
they do not stay single. That is my first charge to you. And my
second is this: you must never find yourselves at a certain place,
especially at night.” And he showed them the spot, under a
poplar tree in the forest.

When
the old king died, his sons were resolved to carry out his
directions. On the first evening, something or someone shouted
through the window, asking for a king's daughter. The brothers were
willing and they threw one of their sisters out of the window. The
second evening again someone or something shouted through the
window, asking for a king's daughter. The brothers threw their second
sister out of the window. And on the third evening again someone or
something shouted through the window, asking for a king's
daughter, and the brothers threw their third sister out of the
window.

Now
they were alone, but they began to be curious. They wanted above all
to know why they should avoid the poplar tree in the forest. So they
went out one evening and sat under the poplar tree, lighted a fire,
and fell asleep. The eldest was to keep watch. While he walked
backwards and forwards, armed with his sword, he saw something eating
the fire; on looking closer he saw it was a three-headed dragon. He
fought the three-headed dragon, he vanquished and buried it, but he
said nothing about this to his brothers, and in the morning they went
home. The next evening they went out again, lighted a fire, and lay
down beside it. This time the second brother had to keep watch. Soon
he saw something eating the fire, and on looking closer saw it was a
six-headed dragon. He fought the six-headed dragon, vanquished and
buried it, but said nothing about it, and the others thought nothing
had happened; the next morning they went home. The third night the
same thing happened; they lighted a fire, and the youngest brother
had to keep watch. Almost as soon as the others were asleep, while he
was walking up and down carrying his sword, he saw something eating
the fire. He looked closer and hesitated a little, losing a few
moments' time. Then he began to fight the dragon, which was a
nine-headed one; but by the time he had finally vanquished it, the
fire had gone out. Now he did not want to catch the others by
surprise, so he set about finding a light. He saw a little light
between the twigs, which he tried to get, but it was not enough. Then
he saw something fighting in the air, and asked what it was, and the
fighting Creatures replied: “We are the sun and the dawn, we
are fighting for the day.” So he loosened a cord which fastened
up his garments and tied the sun and the dawn together, so that the
day might not begin. Then he went further to fetch light and fire,
and came to a spot where three giants slept by a mighty fire. He took
some of the fire, but as he tried to step over one of the giants,
some fire fell on the giant and woke him. The giant seized him with
his hand, showed him to the others and said:

“Look
at the midge I have caught!” The king's son was greatly
alarmed, for the giants wanted to kill him; however, they struck a
bargain with him. There were three princesses they wanted to get hold
of but a dog and a chicken at the door made such a noise that they
could not get to them. The king's son promised to help them, and so
the giants let him go free. A ball of thread was attached and the
king's son went forward, carrying the ball of thread. It was arranged
that every time he pulled the thread one of the giants should follow.
He soon came to a river he could not cross. (All this time the
brothers still slept.) He pulled the thread and one of the giants
came and threw the trunk of a tree across the river so that he was
able to go on. Now he came to the king's palace, where he expected to
find the princesses. He went in and entered one of the rooms. There
he saw one of the princesses. She lay on a copper bed and had a
little gold ring on her finger. This he took off and put on his own
finger and went on. Then he came to a second room where the second
princess lay on a silver bed; she, too, had a little gold ring on her
finger, which he took off and put on his own finger. Then he came to
the third room, where the third princess lay on a golden bed, and he
also put on her golden ring. Then he looked about him and discovered
a very small opening which was an entrance to the castle. So he
pulled the thread and the first giant came along; but the moment that
the giant tried to get through the door, his head inside but his body
outside, the king's son quickly cut off his head. He did the same
with the second giant and the third, and so he killed them all. Then
he went back to his brothers, after he had first unbound the sun and
the dawn. They looked at each other and said; “Oh! what a long
night!” “Yes,” he said, “it was a long
night!” But like the others, he said nothing further, and they
all went home.

Some
time after this the brothers wanted to marry, and the youngest
brother told the others he knew where there were a king's three
daughters, and he led them to the castle. The three brothers married,
the youngest marrying the most beautiful princess, the one who had
lain on the golden bed. The youngest brother was the heir of his
wife's father and had therefore to live in a foreign land. After a
time he wished to visit his native land and to take his wife with
him. But his father-in-law said to him: “If you set forth on
this journey, your wife will be taken from you at the border, and
perhaps you may never see her again!” They wanted to go,
however, so they set out and took thirty horsemen to protect them.
But when they came to the border, the wife was torn away as if by an
unknown power. He went back and asked his wife's father how and where
he could find his wife again. His father-in-law said;

“If
you find her at all it will only be in the White Country.” So
he set out to find his wife. But he did not know the way to the White
Country.

At
last he came to a castle, and went in to ask the way to the White
Country. There he met the lady of the castle and saw that she was one
of his own sisters whom her brothers had thrown out of the window. He
asked for her husband, who was called in, and lo! he was a
four-headed dragon! They asked him the way to the White Country; he
did not know where it was, but his animals might know. The animals
were called in, but none of them knew the way to the White Country.
So the king's son went on and came to a second castle. There he found
his second sister. He asked for her husband, and he was called in. He
was an eight-headed dragon, and he, too, knew nothing of a white
land. “Perhaps,” said he, “the animals might know.”
The animals were called in, but none of them knew the way to the
White Country, and so the king's son had to go on. After a time he
came to a third castle, and there he found his third sister. He told
her what he wanted, and she answered him very sadly. Her husband, a
twelve-headed dragon was called in, and asked about the White
Country; he said he knew nothing of it, but it might be that one of
his animals did. The animals were therefore called in, but none of
them knew the White Country. As the very last came a lame wolf.
“Yes,” said he, “I once came to such a land; there
I was wounded, and am now lame for evermore. I know the White
Country, unluckily for me!” Said the king's son: “I want
to be taken there.” But the wolf would not go, even though they
promised him whole herds of sheep. At last he was persuaded to guide
the king's son as far as a hill from which he could see the White
Country. They came to this hill, and the lame wolf left him there.

The
king's son found a spring from which he drank and felt greatly
refreshed by the water. Then a woman came by, whom he recognized at
once as his stolen wife. She also recognized him, saying immediately:
“You cannot carry me off yet, for if you do, the magician who
imprisons me here as his wife will at once bring me back on his magic
horse. It flies through the air as quickly as thought.”
Whereupon the king's son said:

“What
then shall we do?” She answered: “There is only one way:
we must have a swifter horse. Go to the old woman who lives at the
border. Hire yourself out to her as a servant; she will set you hard
tasks, but you will soon find out how to accomplish them. You must
demand as wages the youngest foal and a saddle. Say to the old woman:
‘I want the old saddle that lies over there on the ground,
covered with dirt.’ Thirdly, you will demand a very old
bridle.”

With
these instructions the king's son went on his way and came to a
stream. As he rested beside it, he saw a fish lying on the bank. The
fish begged him, “Take me and throw me back into the water; you
will be doing me a great kindness!” He did so, and while he was
doing it the fish gave him a whistle and said to him: “If you
ever want anything, just whistle, and I will do you a service!”
He took the little whistle and went on. After a while he met an ant
who was pursued by her enemy, a spider. He freed her, and in return
the ant gave him a small whistle, and told him that if he were ever
in trouble and whistled, help would be sent him. He took it and went
on his way. Soon he met a wounded fox, who had a silver arrow stuck
in him. The fox said, “If you will draw out the arrow, and give
me some herb roots for my wound, I will help you if ever you are in
great trouble.” The king's son did this, and the fox also gave
him a whistle. With these three whistles in his pocket the king's son
went to the old woman who lived at the border. He told her he wished
to hire himself out to her as a servant. “That you may,”
said she, “but service with me is very hard; so far no one has
been able to stand up to it.” Saying this she led him out into
a field where ninety-nine men were hanging. “All these men
hired themselves out to me, but none could do what I wanted. If you
still wish to come and are also not able to stand up to it, you may
be the hundredth.” However, he entered her service for a year.

Now
in that district a year has only three days. On the first day the old
woman made him a soup that sent people to sleep, a dream-soup, and
then she sent him away with three horses. Having taken the soup he
soon fell asleep, and when he awoke the three horses were gone. He
bethought himself of the three whistles; he took the first one out
and whistled. There was a kind of spring at that spot, and three
little goldfish came swimming along. As soon as he touched them, they
turned into the three horses, and so he brought the horses back to
the old woman. She herself had changed the horses into goldfish. When
she saw him return with the horses, she lost her temper and threw
herself from side to side with rage.

The
next day the old woman again made him a dream-soup, and sent him away
with the horses. The soup sent him to sleep, and when he awoke the
horses had disappeared. Then he whistled with the second whistle, and
three golden ants instantly appeared. As soon as he touched
them, there were his three horses again, which he brought back to the
old woman. Then the old woman was quite wild, because she herself had
enchanted the horses, and she railed against the horses. But the
king's son was saved. The third day the old woman said to herself: “I
must set about this much more cleverly.” She again made him a
dream-soup, and sent him out with the horses. When the soup had sent
him to sleep, she changed the horses into three golden eggs, which
she placed under herself and sat down on them. When the king's son
awoke, the horses were gone, and so he whistled on the third whistle.
Now just imagine how cleverly everything happened. The fox came by
and said:

“This
time the task is a little more difficult, but we shall manage it. I
shall go to the hen-yard and make a great commotion there. The
old woman will spring up and go out, and at that moment you will
touch the eggs and they will be changed.” And so it happened.
The fox went to the farmyard and made a disturbance, and as the old
woman sprang up and ran out, the king's son touched the eggs; when
she came back there were the three horses! The old woman was now
obliged to ask the king's son: “What will you have for your
reward?” She expected he would want something very special. But
he said: “I only want the foal that was born last night, the
old saddle over there covered with dirt, and an old bridle.”
These she gave him. The foal was so small he had to carry it on his
back. When evening came the little foal said; “Now you can
sleep while I go to a spring and drink.” Next morning it
returned, and could already gallop with great swiftness. The second
night the same thing happened, and the third day it led him to the
place where his wife was. His wife was placed on the little horse —
and this is the point that proves to anyone who understands these
things the occult origin of fairy tales — and the king's son
asked, “How fast shall we travel through the air?” His
wife answered: “With the swiftness of thought!” Now when
the magician who had imprisoned her noticed their flight, he mounted
his magic horse to hurry after them. The horse asked him: “How
fast shall we travel through the air?” And he replied: “With
the swiftness of will or of thought!” He rushed after them,
getting nearer and nearer — and when he was quite near, the
magic horse told the one in front of him to stop. “I will only
stop when you are quite close,” was the answer. At the same
moment the magic horse reared, threw the robber off, and joined the
little horse. So the queen was freed. The king's son was now able to
go home with his wife, and they lived again in their own country. And
if what happened did not fade away, they must still be alive
today.

That
is a somewhat more complicated fairy tale, containing the most varied
features. Until the time comes when we can say more in explanation of
this tale, we should just let it penetrate our souls in order to
decipher the different features that are here harmonized so
wonderfully. Of course, all that has been brought in through false
tradition must naturally be sifted out of it. But you will be able to
find the threads leading to every event if you follow the principle
described here: the dragon-theme; the theme of the three sisters who
were thrown out of the window; the theme of the conquest of the
dragons at the fire; the theme of cleverness; the marriage theme (the
intellectual soul with the outer world); and once again in a unique
manner the theme of the cleverness of the magic forces. Then Nemesis
or fate appears in a wonderful way when the king's son meets his
sisters: the three brothers had thrown out their higher sisterly
nature — hence the death of the dragons at the fire, and so on.

Such
fairy tales are the experiences of certain individuals among people
who are in the intermediate state of consciousness. The great
popular myths of the gods are also representations of everything
the initiates experience on the astral and higher planes. Fairy tales
stand in relation to the great popular myths of the gods in the
following manner: The myths can be understood when we realize the
huge comprehensive circumstances of the cosmos underlying them, and
fairy tales can be understood when we realize that the different
happenings and pictures are nothing but the repetition of astral
events. In far remote times everyone had astral experiences. They
became fewer and fewer. One person told them to another, the other
took them up, and so the fairy tales were carried from place to
place. They appeared in the most varied languages, and we can note
the similarity of the fairy tale treasures the whole world over, when
we unveil the astral events that serve as their basis.

Any
thoughtful person who travels about can even now find the last
remnants of atavistic clairvoyance. Somewhere or other he may meet
someone who relates what he has seen in the astral world as his own
personal experience. Such a person in traveling about the world will
hear fairy tales told by those who still possess a presentiment of
the real truth. In this way they have been inscribed in our
literature, and thus did the brothers Grimm collect their fairy
tales; in like manner others have collected them, who were usually
not clairvoyant themselves, but got them at second, third, or
even tenth hand, so that they encountered them in a very mutilated
form. But the time when people were still in such close touch with
the spiritual world is approaching its twilight. Human beings are
withdrawing more and more from the spiritual world. Atavistic
clairvoyance is becoming rarer and rarer, at least, what may be
called healthy clairvoyance, and true clairvoyance tends more and
more to be attainable only through training, so that in the time to
come most people who know anything of the matter will say about what
people saw in ancient times: “Once upon a time old people
related this or that from their astral experiences. Where was it
then? It could have been everywhere.”

Nowadays,
however, we can very seldom find anyone who can relate things from a
genuine source, and it will be said of fairy tale experiences: “They
happened once upon a time, and if they did not perish, these fairy
tale experiences are still alive.”

But
for most people, who are inwardly entangled with the physical plane,
they have long since been dead.